This Is How We Start Again
by Zofie C. Field
Summary: Dyad is burning in the background. You sit on the street curb, side by side, and decide how to start again. [Three-shot]
1. Part I

**This Is How We Start Again**

You sit together, side by side on the street curb, chins on elbows and elbows on knees. You burned Dyad to the ground (quite literally – this curb is six blocks from the building due to the mandatory evacuation). Together, you routed out the minds behind the cloning and the minds behind those minds. It is, after so very long, over.

* * *

Life is a choose-your-own adventure story. There are moments, choices, spoken words that can change everything. You can live one life or _you can live_ _another._

* * *

There is panic still, adrenaline riding the waves of your sky-high blood pressure. But you will the tremors of your bones to subside, will yourself to smile.

You nudge Cosima with your shoulder. "That was quite a day."

"And to think, we considered playing hooky to go to the movies today!" she jokes. Your eyes meet and you see the twin panic in her, and you see her choose to let it out in a sudden rush of laughter. You chuckle at first, enjoying her laugh, and then start laughing in earnest as giggles and hiccups overtake her. This is what you love about her, the ability to see the light. You reach over and try to rub the soot from her forehead, smudging it badly.

Her face stills, and she closes her eyes as your hand brushes over them. When they open again, the laughter has gone.

"I don't think I could have done this without you, Delphine," she says, looking hard into you, willing you to understand. You do, completely, but she cuts you off before you can speak. "Not just the science chunk of it. That was great, but working next to you every day, sleeping next to you every night, that was the best part. That kept me going."

She's finished, and you're nodding, foregoing words and explanation in favor of the slip of your hand into hers.

* * *

_There's panic still, you feel the adrenaline pulsing through you. You will the tremors in your hands to subside but they refuse to die._

"_That was quite a day," you say, as the breath you've been holding since you woke up this morning, since she told you her plan two weeks ago, rushes out of you._

"_I can't believe it's over," Cosima murmurs, burying her face in her arms. You stretch your arm above her head, letting it come to rest along her shoulders. You give her a quick squeeze._

_After a long moment of silence, she lifts her head and looks at you. You see her searching you for something, and you find yourself searching her as well. What is it? Hope? Light? Whatever it is, you don't find it, and neither does she._

"_Delphine, I don't know how we're going to forget this. How are we going to move on?"_

_You shake your head, words abandoning you, because you don't know. It's the very thought that has been tearing through you._

_She takes a deep breath, stealing herself, "I couldn't have done this without you. I wouldn't have stood a chance. But," she trails off and looks at you. _

_You see the words there on her face, and you say them, because they are a truth you've also been hiding. "But we were born out of this chaos. From our first kiss, this was woven into us." You gesture helplessly at the black sky behind you, and she nods._

"_Delphine, I don't think we can separate ourselves from this. We have to find away to move on, to leave this all behind, and…"_

_You finish for her. "And we might have to leave this, us, behind as well." And you both understand._

* * *

"Oy!" You hear Felix calling from a block away. He and Sarah are filthy and thrilled, skipping down the sidewalk like children. Helena and Allison follow, equally filthy and grinning, arm in arm. Cal brings up the rear, hands in pockets, quiet as usual but clearly enjoying the spirit.

Felix charges ahead of the group, and pounces on Cosima, tugging her braids and peppering her face with kisses. In the midst of his attack, he pecks you on the cheek as well, and you laugh, grateful for his buoyancy.

"Well, my lady lovers," he says, dragging you both to your feet, "we are going to celebrate with ice cream. Cal's buying." He winks at Cal, who blushes slightly but nods his ascent, his hand now safely twined with Sarah's.

They carry on ahead, the whole family whooping and laughing. Cosima pulls you after them, but you plant your feet and pull her back to steal a kiss. She laughs and tugs, and you both run, neither looking back. It's time to leave this all behind. It's time to start again.

* * *

_You sit there on the curb, side by side, until you hear her family approaching, shouting and cheering with the day's success. _

_Together you rise and embrace. She holds you in her arms for a long moment, and you hold tight as well. She promises she'll see you soon, and you promise to call, but you know you've reached the end. You won't see her again. Then you part, she turns left, you turn right, and you both fade into the crowds. You hear Felix calling her name, then yours, but you keep walking. It's time to leave this all behind. It's time to start again._


	2. Part II Twenty Years Later

**Part II**

She excuses herself repeatedly as she slips along the crowded row, bumping knees and jostling purses. You smile, watching her make her way towards you, and she winks back, stumbling over someone's foot and catching herself on a toddler's head.

Finally, she collapses in the empty seat next to you. She pats the knee of your oldest daughter and hands you her phone. "Her flight just landed. Scott said he'd pick her up on his way here."

"Thank goodness. That's her second cancelled flight this year. She would have been furious to miss this." All of your daughters have a hot temper when the situation calls for it. Like mothers, like daughters.

You lean past Cosima and ask the oldest, "You have their shirts, right?"

She nods, producing two t-shirts from her bag. One for Uncle Scott, and one for your middle daughter (currently barreling her way through the Minnesota airport).

The t-shirts match those that you, Cosima, and your oldest are wearing, as well as the ones your parents are wearing down at the end of the row. Hot pink with teal script, the shirts bear a cartoon drawing of your youngest daughter and the slogan: _Team Niehaus-Cormier! Graduation 2038! _

Looking down the row at your family, you're warm all over, absolutely tingling with gratitude. It's been twenty years since the days when you could have lost everything. You could have missed all of this. But those dark days are the farthest thing from your mind right now.

You haven't forgotten, nor has Cosima. Nor will you ever. But these days, you think of those times rarely, and always with an odd fondness. Terrible as they were, they brought you together, bound you with ascii code, smoke, and groaning steal.

You wrap your arm around Cosima's shoulders and pull her towards you. She slips her fingers into your free hand, squeezing lightly. Your daughter is chatting happily with your parents in her lilting French, and you are giddy, overwhelmed.

The ceremony is long, but they always are. Scott and your oldest come charging into the room an hour into the program, pushing their way inelegantly down the row. They tug their neon shirts over their heads just in time to hear the Dean of Students introduce the class valedictorian.

Your youngest rises and walks towards the podium, adjusting her cap nervously. The whole lot of you are on your feet, whooping and cheering, stamping your feet. She looks nothing like Cosima, of course, none of them do. But when she reaches the podium, scrunches up her nose and adjusts her glasses, the resemblance is unmistakable.

"If you couldn't tell," she says into the microphone, blushing to match your hot pink shirts and grinning widely, "that's my family over there. Hey, guys. Simmer down, now." She waves, and you and Cosima shout your pride and love for her until your other daughters pull you down into your seats. You are both embarrassing, as usual, and proud of it.

* * *

Your girls walk arm-in-arm after the ceremony, chatting happily. As you follow behind, Cosima slips her hand into yours, and bumps your hip lightly.

"We did it!" She's grinning, all teeth and joy, and you're grinning too. "All three of them, graduated, employed, healthy and happy!" She does a little dance and you laugh, joining in.

"What will we do now?" You ask, because you've been wondering these last few weeks, watching your youngest pack up her belongings.

She shrugs, swinging your joined arms like you are children. "We're officially empty nesters now. We can do anything we want. Move somewhere warm maybe or get a puppy."

You smile. Your daughters have stopped their skipping and are waiting for you. "We could adopt a couple more kids," you say in a loud stage whisper, "Start fresh."

Cosima plays along, joking, "A journalist, a nurse, and a history teacher? Not a single scientist among them? Definitely time to start again."

There is a chorus of dissent, and the girls rush you, tackling you both to the ground. This is your family, three beautiful college graduates and two world-renowned scientists, a hot pink giggling blur on the college lawn.


	3. Part III Twenty Years Later

**Part III**

_You don't see her so much as you _feel_ her. It's the last morning of your holiday, and you're sitting in a cafe, curled up in a chair by the window. And suddenly the back of your skull is on fire and you're breathing fast. You turn, and there she is. _

_She's watching you, the book in her hand forgotten. She used to wear her feelings openly, painted across her face, and you're grateful to see that's still the case. Surprise is written all over her._

_It's like seeing a ghost. _

_You think, for a split second, about turning back around, pretending you'd been trying to flag down a waiter, pretending you hadn't noticed her. Only for a split second. Then you're on your feet, purse tucked under your arm, plate and water glass in hand. Years ago, she would have been the one to cross the divide, but today you take the plunge. You slip into the seat across from her, settle down._

_And then you meet her eyes. Had you forgotten how deep they are? How they seem to see everything? How could you have forgotten that? You lose yourself in her for a moment, forget that this is a crowded restaurant, forget that it's been twenty years._

_"Kira's graduating tomorrow from Oxford," she says without preamble, breaking you from your thoughts. "PhD in Medical Ethics and Public Policy. I flew in just for the weekend, wouldn't miss it for the world."_

_"That's quite an accomplishment," you reply, pretending this is normal, pretending this isn't surreal. "Sarah must be very proud."_

_She smiles, not the toothy grin you remember, but warm all the same. "She's over the moon. Cal too." _

_It's clear it's your turn to speak, your turn to take a stab at the ice. You need a moment (a thousand moments) to adjust to her proximity but you open your mouth anyway. "I'm here on holiday. Just a little rest before the school year starts."_

"_You teach?" She grins now and leans towards you. "I've always pictured you teaching at a university somewhere, blowing the minds of college kids."_

_You find yourself leaning towards her as well, your breath catching just a bit. "Secondary school, actually, back in France. Chemistry. I love teaching, but," and you trail off, realizing just how close you were to popping this imaginary bubble._

_Her smile falters for a second. "Yeah," she says, hand combing restlessly through the dreads pulled into a neat knot. She gestures towards herself. "High school biology. I took a position at a university in San Fran for a while, but being in the lab again just…" The sentence fades, and you understand completely._

_You muster up a smile, and ask about her students, and she about yours. You share stories of student antics and classes gone awry. _

_Minutes stretch into an hour, then into two. Together, you work backwards, sketching out the skeleton of the last two decades. You both skirt away from the details, though. Until you don't._

_"Ever married?" she asks you. _

_"Once, but it didn't last," you hesitate, catching yourself. You weigh the words and then barrel ahead. "He was never you."_

_You expect her to shut you down, ignore it, or recoil. But instead she nods like she understands, absentmindedly smoothing a thumb over her bare ring finger. _

_You don't tell her about the look on his face when you told him you were leaving. And she doesn't tell you about the friendships she tore apart trying to match the feeling of your hand in hers. Neither of you mention the fleeting moments, as you watch a student brimming with enthusiasm for science, when your hands start to shake again and your heart stutters in your chest. There's no need. You both understand._

_You part with no promises, just a squeeze of hands and a kiss on the cheek. Cosima smiles like she used to, as she says, "It was good to see you again." And you take that smile and carry it away with you, a memento._

_You do not expect to see her again. One chance meeting was all Fate had allotted you. Not enough for closure, but then again, there was never any hope of closure when it came to her. And though you lie awake at night, thinking of her and the way her hands used to float along your skin, you make no attempts to find her again. The ache is comfortable, a reminder of a brief time of light. A gentle longing._

_You do not expect to see her again. But you walk into your classroom one morning, weeks later, and there she is. She's sitting on your desk, thumbing through a textbook, as though she belongs there. _

_When she sees you, she slips off of the desk and leans against it, book still in hand. Seeing her there, before she begins to speak, you already understand._

_"It's been twenty years," she says, as you come to rest a breath away from her. "We lived our lives, and we've been just fine, but I think it's time."_

_You had been waiting to forget, waiting to be whole again, but you had this all wrong. Both such smart women, both so foolish when it comes to love._

_The mend, the cure, for your bruised and battered past? Here it lies, in a tight embrace, in a high school science class._

"_Yes," you say, "It's time to start again." _


End file.
